Aren't You Tired of Misery?
by perfect-tourniquet
Summary: Kendall took a long drag of the cigarette resting between his long fingers, and that's when the words finally left his lips, "I see no wall, James. You watched it all fall apart. I don't need a lecture; I need someone I can trust for once."
1. C1: Please, Keep My Coffin Close By?

I don't even know where this came from. I'm going to blame it on always listening to, what my friends call, "angst-y" music. So enjoy readers. Please don't hesitate to review, it means a lot to me. –Leah ;)

**Warning: ****RATED M! Contains strong language, drug and alcohol use, implied adult themes. Read at your own discretion; and if you don't like it, no one is forcing your mouse to click on it, and no one is forcing your occipital lobe to help process its content. I respect your right to like it or not, so please respect my right to write what I please. :]**

"_Heard a knock upon my door the other day, I opened it to find death staring in my face. The feel of mortal stalking still reverberates; everywhere I go I drag this coffin just in case."_

Everything around him was dissolving, leaving on its own accord. His family, done with him months ago, and girlfriend walked out the moment she found out he was into it. The few friends had left could hardly be considered that at best. He couldn't remember the last time he been to work, he figured they just fired him not showing up after a week or two. The withered appearance of his face on display for each stranger he passed, once bright emerald eyes were sunken in and tired, his skin devoid of healthy color, clothes worn and shoes falling apart, he might as well be a walking corpse.

The heat was blazing down that afternoon, as he walked down the street to his lonely apartment, he could feel the last few pills he had in his pocket every time his hand swayed when he moved. To someone who wasn't as fucked up as him, they would have been something that wasn't frightening. He rubbed his fingertips against the faint outlines of the little pills in his denim pocket.

_This is the last time_, he swore to himself. He forced himself to believe the lie; he let his brain process the obvious lie into the one stead-fast thing he had to hang on to.

He found himself walking faster at the excitement of the high that he knew was coming, but at the same time he'd rather die then feel the crash after the "good stuff" wore off and all that was left was this shitty experience he had come to call living.

_This is the last time_, Kendall whispered to himself once more as he opened his front door and shakily took a seat at the small kitchen table. He slammed the little bag of pills on the table and took his cell phone out to crush them. A halfway crisp ten dollar bill served a beautiful tool to line up the dust, before he leaned his nose down and breathed in deep taking the poison powder into his system.

Kendall remembered the feeling of warm floating all down his limbs, the buzz that told his brain it was okay to laugh, and that told his eyes and ears that there were objects and sounds he sensed weren't real hallucinations. He briefly remembered the happy feeling settling into his mind, before he couldn't distinguish between reality and delusion.

Fear was being in to crumble his weak frame and he sat on his couch screaming at what looked like nothing to an outsider, but in his vision he saw death lurking its way closer to him, hoping to wrap its dark, languid fingers around his throat and stop his heartbeat forever. He never wanted to go back in time more than ever before; he knew that this was it. Everything had finally reached the breaking point, as the black over took his "reality".


	2. C2: We're No Better, You'll See

"_Wish your drinking would hurry and kill you. Sympathy's better than having to tell you the truth; that you are the patron saint of lost causes. All you are to them is now a lost cause. All you are to them is now, causes."_

Kendall figured as soon as he slipped down into that unforgiving black that there was never a chance he'd ever make his way back. All he knew was that he'd woken up in some white, much too brightly lit room that smelt too clean and that whatever these tubes going up his nose were for are really fucking annoying.

His emerald eyes fluttered open and he shifted a bit feeling his entire backside was numb, he assumed because he slept in the same position for so long. A rasped breath left his lungs as he tried to move some more, _God, what the hell, h_e thought as he started to shake of the sleepy stiffness that didn't want to leave his muscles.

"Look who's alive," someone dryly stated, their voice was devoid of any emotion it seemed. But Kendall could have sworn he knew that voice, almost better than his own. He could hear soft footsteps padding over to him on the linoleum floor.

"How ya' feeling?" Kendall was greeted by a sight had hadn't seen a nearly a year. James stood there, casual as ever, with that stupid smile on his face. He couldn't figure out he went from what he thought was sure death to have one of his old best friends standing over his hospital bed.

"W-why are you here? How did I get here?" Kendall asked, going to scratch his head but being stopped when the IV tugged on the skin of the top of his hand. To everyone else his question was probably stupid, child's play in the scheme of everything, but he couldn't figure this one out for the goddamn life of him.

James' expression changed as Kendall figured the story undoubtedly crossed his mind. His hand went to push his hair back, a nervous habit since he was young, as he sighed.

"You really don't remember it?" He asked, trying to avoid the unbelievable story. Kendall just shook his head, his shoulders shrugging themselves to further prove his confusion.

"Kendall, you overdosed. Those little devil pills you deserted everyone who cared about you for, nearly killed you." James spoke blankly, no tone to help Kendall decipher how he was connected to his accidental near death journey.

"And you're here because?" Kendall drew out his syllables, to provoking James into explaining more. He knew from when they were kids that treating James like he was an idiot would only get him going more, which meant more information would flow from that mouth of his. He never was good at keeping secrets.

"Well, by some God given miracle, I guess, or rather the touch screen cell phone you have, dialed my number, and I could hear you yelling at someone or something to," James considered his next few words before he continued, "as you put it on the phone, 'to get the fuck away from me, I don't want to die, this was a mistake'. I called the police; you sounded like you were being murdered." His voice dipped at the last few words, to match his falling eyes.

Kendall was for one amazed, and secondly wondered why the hell James would even give a damn if he was being murdered. The last time they saw each other, the words of _**'I'm fucking done with you Kendall Knight'**_ was spoken by James.

"Oh," that really was his best response for the time being. He hoped James wouldn't ask any questions but his wishes just hadn't been coming true lately.

"Why did you take that many Kendall, like what the hell where you thinking? Your mom told me that it looked like you were finally cleaning your act up at bit." The tall brunette pulled up his chair as their battle of questions and empty answers set in.

"I don't know. Why'd you care if I was dead? And since when have you spoken to my mom?" Kendall was all for telling James nothing and trying to turn this whole situation around on him.

"You didn't answer me." He coolly countered, hoping Kendall's resolve would just break.

Kendall stared off into the space of the bright room, hoping to escape James' questioning gaze, "I'm not going to, cause I don't even know why I did."

"There's a start," James muttered, again running his hand through his hair, out of nervousness or frustration, Kendall couldn't tell, "And I care because, we used to be like family. But I don't know when we all allowed you to walking down the wrong path. You hurt everyone; you were so selfish for this 'high' that nearly killed you."

"Well, what the fuck do you want me to say, okay? I fucked up; I know that, thank you very much. What I don't understand is how blaming me for everything shattering and falling into a hopeless oblivion because of my less than wonderful decisions, makes any sense!" Now Kendall was beyond in a rage. The blood was boiling up in his veins and its heat was putting a flush to his paled and weathered face. If he wasn't tied up with all of there tubes and wires going God know's where, he probably would have given Diamond a nice crack on his pretty little jaw.

"I'm not trying to blame you! I'm trying to get through this goddamn wall you've plastered around yourself!" James couldn't stop his anger from matching Kendall's, despite knowing that this was hardly the time from criticism.

It was the first time in months that Kendall had opened up at all. He had been hiding in his cave of carefully placed lies and horrible mistakes. What began as a small web had become too much for Kendall, and all James could do at this point was listen, and watch as his barely recognizable friend's life and resolve crumbled all around him.

All Kendall wanted to do was take a long drag of the cigarette that should be resting between his long fingers, his newly acquired habit, but no, he was stuck in this stupid hospital bed. Shortly after that's when the words finally left his lips, "I see no wall, James. You watched it all fall apart. I don't need a lecture; I need someone I can trust for once."

The way James saw it, Kendall's web finally tangled enough around his feet and snatched him right up into the worst hell they could have ever imagined. No comforting pat on the shoulder or an "it will all work out" could even begin to help heal the wounds.

**Let me know what you all think. –Leah ;)**


	3. C3: Once I'm Dead, I'll Be Saved

**_"I met a man at church on Saturday. He said I'm here because I'm sick, and after sick I'll be dead. And once I'm dead, I'll be saved." _**

The truth in the sentence hit James like a speeding freight train. He leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, listening to it creak, anything to keep him from focusing on that godawful truth. He knew he had failed Kendall. And in the end, he had no excuse for why he never reached out his hands far enough to help Kendall.

But sometimes, it felt like James was reaching, reaching, just trying to reach so fucking far to get his friend back. He knew there was only so much you can do, to try and push someone to change and give up a bad habit. James had tried, so damn hard to prove to Kendall that the pills were _killing_ him. Kendall always said he had it under control; that it he could give it up, that he would. James should have never turned away. His only feeling was guilt, it wound its way down into his bones, his heart, like vicious vines smothering him.

Guilt like that, it eats away at you. It gnaws at your being, casually reminding you every day that you could have done something. That you could have been the change to help erase the problem.

Kendall's eyes were keen on James as he watched his face fall from that comment. He knew the blame didn't need to bear down that much on him, but Kendall couldn't handle accepting that this was all his own fault.

"Why'd you even pick up the phone when I called?" Kendall wondered aloud, watching as James rested his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes with heels of his palms.

James started recalling the thoughts that were rolling through his head at the time; he honestly didn't even know what he was hoping for at the time. "I guess, I was hoping you wanted to, that you, just, fuck, I don't know."

"There's gotta be some reason, James."

"Why does there have to be a reason? My best friend called. I always wanted it to feel like it used to be; you'd call and you'd be okay. Shit got really messed up once everything happened. I didn't know what to when your name popped up."

Kendall closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. His stomach churned. This place smelt like bleach and death. A whole lot of death. Kendall felt like he had a copious amount of thoughts rolling his mind, but his mouth had no way to phrase them. The sudden movement of something screeching across the linoleum pulled him back to the present.

"I can see you're not ready to talk." James was grimacing as the words drifted into the air. Kendall wanted to speak, but had no words to offer. James pushed the chair back against the wall and moved to continue out the door.

"Wait," Kendall was staring at the ceiling, counting the drop-in tiles, trying to will this out of himself, "just give me time here. I don't know how to fix this shit. Just promise me, I need to be able to count on you. I don't want to keep fucking up like this. I don't want to keep ruining everything I touch."

"I can promise I'll try. That's it." Kendall focused on his retreating steps as James strolled out.

* * *

><p>so, after, like the longest wait for an update, i'm sorry, guys. but here you go, let me know what you think. - leah<p> 


	4. C4: Shaking in My Shame

_**"Product of a murderer, you stole everything from me. This poison hurts, feels so empty. Fill my veins with this sin, shaking on the ground, my head's going crazy from within. Cold sweats, shaking in my shame. Heart stops, dying where I lay." - Product of a Murderer / Of Mice & Men**_

_He remembered the warmth floating down his limbs. The sense of calm, the peace. The humorous happenings around him. The way the light filtered through the blinds, the soft fabric of the couch he was lazing on. How content every inch of his body was, how peaceful and quiet his was. It was like all his thoughts had decided to take a surprise vacation. And holy fuck, he was so okay with it. So okay with feeling, with thinking absolutely nothing for once._

_This encompassing feeling cascaded up, like the falsetto of a catchy tune. He followed it, right on it's heels. Chasing, chasing, chasing. He could run forever behind it, living off everything it gave him. Absolute light. It surrounded him like the embrace of someone who truly loved you. _

_It consumed. God, it consumed. _

_Soon the gentle feeling was gnawing, burning. His skin was hot, as if someone was holding him over an open flame. His heart felt like it was trying fly out of his chest, like his sternum and ribcage were turning to dust. He couldn't catch his breathe, he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. Absolute light was becoming absolute dark. The heat soon felt like ice darting through his veins. He was getting so tired, so very tired. It was picking him into pieces. _

_The shadowy figure edged it's way closer. It's long fingers were skimming his skin, coming closer to reaching what it wanted. Winding their way around his throat, securing the prize. . . _

_Dark. _

_Why was everything so dark?_

* * *

><p>Four walls. Three windows lined together. Nine fluorescent lights above. Three plastic chairs and two doors. Nineteen buttons on the TV and bed remote. One hundred seventy-three and a half drop-in ceiling tiles.<p>

Kendall could now rattle off almost every detail of the small space. It was as if someone was holding in prison in this box of a room. The shades were open, but only offered the view of the adjacent wing of the hospital. The television here was absolute shit. Shows were either daytime soaps or fuzzy images that you couldn't even follow. He wasn't even allowed to shower or piss by himself. Nurses were constantly in and out. Poking at him, checking everything under the sun, explaining the 'detox' process, asking him he needed anything or anyone.

He was gonna fucking lose it soon.

But if he was pissed off, it at least meant he was awake. After being out of it for so long Kendall thought he'd be able to keep his eyelids from drooping at two in the afternoon. It'd been days since he woke up, but the fatigue just never let him. His head kept going to a far away place when sleep set in. A dark place, devoid of any hope. A place where he watched himself overdose and lose everything over and over again. With each dream, the colors brightened and the memory grew clearer. It'd suck him in, he'd wake up gasping, feeling like death was getting a fraction of an inch closer to him every time. He'd will himself to stay awake. To focus, on something, someone, anything; just keep the dreams away. Kendall somehow always failed though.

There had to be some kind of sick irony to it. Like God was trying to squish him down, to show him that he'd really fucked up this time. He was failing at keeping his own head sane, just like he failed at nearly everything in his life.

A steady job. . . Let's see, grocery cashier, kid's hockey coach, and his most recent job, a music producer's assistant; all failed. And miserably failed the last one.

A loving girlfriend. . . A few girls in high school, maybe one or two in his incomplete college career, and his last one. Jo, she was one hell of a catch. Beautiful, independent, sweet. But, he'd chosen the pills over her in the end. Most definitely failed.

A stable family. . . Well, his dad left. And besides his mother, who occasionally called or offered to come see him. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his sister either. Was she fourteen or fifteen now? Yep, he'd failed.

And friends. . . Ha. Who the fuck knew? Before he'd overdosed, he maybe had three. Jett, his dealer, but he really shouldn't count. He only saw him to get what he needed. Kid was a douche anyway. There was his 'group' from high school, but they'd all moved on. And James, well, Kendall wasn't even sure where to group him.

James hadn't been back to see him in over a week. Kendall knew he asked for time, but seriously? He was going to go nuts here. He was pretty sure they weren't going to let him out of this place until he had someone who would look after him. Someone to keep him from A) dying B) being back in the hospital and C) returning to drugs. Really A, B, C were all the essentially the same fucking thing, but the way one of the nurse's explained it was he needed to have a plan to keep all his shit neat and in a pretty line.

And to be honest, Kendall didn't want a fucking baby sitter. The way he saw it, he was either going to sink or swim. Or start swimming and then eventually sink. And no 'baby sitter' could change that outcome. Not his mom or even James.

All the self reflection was giving him a headache, but there was nothing to distract him. How the hell did people ever not think about their mistakes? Every thing they wish they had done differently? Why did his mind have to keep every bad? He never could remember when good things happened. It was always which memory is going to paralyze him right now? Which memory is going to remind you of everything you've tried to bury down?

That was no way to live. Kendall knew it.

* * *

><p>and there you go. drop a review, my lovelys. i'd like to hear what you all think. updates should be coming quickly. - leah :]<p>

*also i got a pm about what's in quotations above each chapter, and just to let you all know they are lyrics from songs i listen to while i write. i'll try to remember to put the song title and artist next to them from now on.  
>so far it's been:<br>chapter one: the drug in me is you - falling in reverse  
>chapter two: (*fin) - anberlin<br>chapter three: the sick, sick 6.8 billion - letlive.


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